


Bites

by Julorean



Series: That Boy is a Monster [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, M/M, Monsters, NHL Player Eric "Bitty" Bittle, brief mention of real life hockey players, mild body horror, nhl!Bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julorean/pseuds/Julorean
Summary: Little snippets/codas from this 'verse





	1. Dex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NHL!Dex. Still can't get away from the hothead jokes

Bitty's laptop pinged, signaling an incoming Skype call.

"Dex! Hi! Congrats on getting to the playoffs! That was a good game against the Blues.” 

Dex smiled thinly. "Thanks. It was...a hard season, but it was good."

Bitty gave him a look. "You don't seem very enthusiastic about it."

The redhead sighed heavily. "Is...it true?"

"Is what true?" Bitty had a pretty good idea about what he wanted to ask, but he wasn't going to make it easy on his former frog.

"I mean, the Captain told all the rookies about it once we secured a spot, but I. I knew the NHL would be different. Samwell was weird, but what the fuck, this is a whole other level of crazy."

"Dex, you're rambling."

"The whole...playoff...monster...thing. That," he finally ground out, his freckles standing out as speckles of bright glowing gold. 

"Ah. That." Bitty nodded. "Yup. It is."

Dex made a noise, and pulled at his shaggy copper hair. "Fucking...really? Wha...wait is that why you were all..." he waved his hands around, "...in last year's playoffs?"

Bitty sighed. "Yeah. That...that was not a good time," he admitted. 

“What happened? If it’s okay to ask. You...you don’t have to tell me,” he said hesitantly. “Though...you don’t look any different.”

Bitty quirked a wry smile. “Well, it’s only the first round, things haven’t gotten too heavy. Most people have to really focus to see the changes, if there even are any yet.” 

And. He knew saying something like that would only make Dex determined. He liked to know how things worked. 

But. It...it would be nice to have someone else  _ see _ . Someone who knew him earlier, and still...could still like what he’d become. 

He heard a hissing intake of breath through teeth. “Holy shit. No wonder…”

“Yeah. Now imagine having all this land on you right from round one. Some of the others had claws and fangs, and there I was with all that and full-on  _ armor _ .”

After the Schooners got knocked out, it was even more rough. Jack ended up calling his dad to help get us sorted out.” 

Dex frowned, but didn’t push. 

“So...what now?”

“So, you keep going. You keep playing until you win, or the other team does. Oh, and keep even more protein bars and snacks in all your bags. You’re gonna be burning calories like nothin’ else. The shift takes a lot out of you, for everything you get.” Bitty quirked a smile. “Look back in the Schooners Instagram last year, they got the tail end of me finishing off that giant steak eating challenge. Wasn’t sure I’d manage it, but they did give me like two hours. AND I had dessert afterwards. They made a pretty good apple pie. Nearly as good as mine. Went great with the french vanilla ice cream.”

  
  


It was after a searing loss to the Sharks that it really hit. 

“Dex.”

Will barely heard his name called, too focused on stripping off his pads, poking gingerly at the edge of what would be a fantastic bruise, his freckles shining gold against the purple. 

“PoinDEXter!” yelled Hamilton.

“WHAT?!” he yelled back. 

“Uh. Your hair.” 

“Yeah, I know, it’s getting longer and annoying but I can’t cut it now, idiot! It’s playoffs!”

Another teammate made a disbelieving noise. “Yeah not like it could even work, the scissors would melt,” he heard muttered. 

He shuffled over to frown at his reflection. His hair was...floating? Like he was underwater. It certainly seemed to be ignoring the rules of gravity. He ran this fingers through. Still felt the same. As he worried at a few strands, copper red shone, flared…

_ fwoosh _

“Um.” He was left holding solid strands of fire, glowing with gentle warmth. 

Coleman cackled. “Dex is a fireball! One of our fastest D, got the temper to match!”

Dex turned and glared until Coler started to sweat. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, jeez, don’t set me on fire!” 

“Yeah, Dex, combusting your teammates is severely frowned upon. Don’t turn Colesy into coals,” Mony cackled. 

His frown broke into confusion. “Fuck, can that really happen?”

“Haven’t seen it myself, but it’s playoffs, so who knows. Settle down, we don’t need the entire rink melted.” 

 


	2. Chris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chowder, living the dream!

Chris Chow could feel it, there was some kind of secret in the air when he arrived at their latest practice. As a goalie, he’d always had a sense of these things, but with playoffs it got even sharper. Was it a shark thing? Or a Sharks thing? 

“Okay guys, I’ve been here nearly a whole season, I thought the pranks were done?” he complained. 

He clenched his teeth. Playoffs were a pain in the ass. And his jaw. It still ached after the new teeth had come in. It was worse than getting his braces adjusted. 

He poked around his stall. His kit was where it should be. If anything was out of place, they’d learn just what his new teeth were like.

The tension burbled and popped as he grabbed his jersey. 

Oh. “Really guys?” he groaned. Of course. 

The sharky teeth had been even more itchy when first coming in last week. It had gotten so bad he’d ended up (apparently not so sneakily) gnawing on his stick during a lull in practice. 

He should’ve known the chirping had ended rather abruptly. 

Someone artistically inclined had recreated a disturbingly adorable Shark-Chow a la San Jose’s logo. 

“What do you think of our new jerseys?” Pavelski grinned at him. 

 


	3. Kent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower is there because this is somewhat inspired by tienriu's Pens!Bitty 'verse, wherein the Aces are a very young, clueless team. Jagr is there because he's awesome and fuck you, that's why. Also he's adopted all the younger Aces. They are his children now.

They won the game against the Schooners, but barely. The scrapes from his fight with Bittle still ached. That kid was scary. Kent would be making a concerned phone call for sure, but that was for tomorrow.

They were getting deeper into playoffs and it was starting to wear on everybody. Except maybe Jagr. Wasn’t that a mindfuck, if you got to thinking about it. He’d seen more NHL seasons than most of the team had even been alive, and been in more playoff rounds than Kent could even contemplate. And it showed. Beastly traits usually only remained if they won a championship, but he was a legend.

He’d laughed when Kent asked him about it.

“It happens when you’ve been around as long as me. So I never won more than a couple of Cups, not like old Bob. I’ve sacrificed enough of my time, my body, and soul to hockey. Odds are pretty good I’ll make it to the playoffs, too, so why bother changing? It’s tiring.”

He laughed. “I’m doing better than some of your rookies though!”

Said rookies were....no sugarcoating it, right now they were looking sad and pathetic. Like wet kittens or something.

“Okay, you guys are coming over. Executive captain decision, it’s a sleepover.”

They perked up a little, like curious kittens. With their scruffy attempts at playoff beards and new sleek fur, it wasn’t too far off the mark. Fleury invited himself over, naturally. He had a soft spot for all the baby Aces, having become a mentor figure by dint of being one of the few players on the team that was over twenty-five.

They dragged a couple of mattresses into the game room and piled it with cushions and soft blankets. Kit made a happy _mrrrpp_ at the new things to hide under. She meowed a complaint when Kent picked her up to allow the rookies to finish arranging things. Then she started grooming Kent’s cowlick, making it even worse.

He plopped face-first into the pile of pillows. “Come on. Grab a buddy or two and join the pile.”

Soon there were tired hockey players draped all over the room. The couch held a few, the rest cuddled together on the floor, with Kent at the core. Kit was curled up on his head.

Flower stretched out along the edge of the pile. He snapped a photo. They really were quite cute. The baby Pens were rarely so adorable during playoffs. Probably because of the teeth.

 


	4. Aces Interlude

Jaromir had to hurry to catch up with the smaller figure. He hadn't been too sure of this at first, but when the goalie had brought up the rookie forward's...unusual aggressiveness, his mind was made up.

"Bittle!" he called.

The shorter man stopped. "What," he growled, a sound at odds with his size. The glowing yellow eyes and bared fangs...which alright, that was an impressive set that he hadn't seen since the last time he looked in a mirror. It was fierce, intimidating, and that only deepened his disquiet.

"Sorry to bother you, but..."

" _ Why _ are you bothering me, then?"

"We know that playoffs can be a lot to handle. Your case certainly seems unusual, I must say," Jagr went on.

Bittle's frown deepened. "Great, even the opposing team noticed how much of a freak I am," he muttered.

Most people probably wouldn't have heard it. But most people didn't have Jagr's ears.

"Yeah, well, everybody with the Schooners was pretty surprised, and doesn't know what the hell to do with me."

 

Flower materialized out of the shadows like the weird goalie he was. "Was that enough?" Flower asked quietly. "He's...pretty far along. Even Sid didn't shift that far for years, not until after our first Cup. And that's just what I can see."

"He has quite a bit of armor for a forward. Haven't seen that often. Not that advanced, and never on a rookie."

"Oh. So is there...something more going on?"

"If there isn't, I'll retire." He let out a breath. "I think...I shall have to make a call. Kent confirmed that the kid knows Bob Zimmerman, his son Jack played with him on the same line in college, and they're good friends."

Flower nodded. "Kent said he was planning on calling Bob soon."

"Not much we can do right now. Go, the rookies are probably waiting for you."

"Jaromir! What brings you to call so early?" Bob greeted his old friend and former teammate. "Still looking after all those young ones?"

"Ha, they're fine. Still sleeping in one big pile. Very cute, like kittens!" He took a breath. "Bob. You know Bittle, #15 on the Schooners, yes? Friend of your son?"

"...Yes," he replied, now sounding wary and concerned.

"Have you  _ seen _ him lately?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Jagr on the Aces. I like to think they're a young team, and they need a vet to help balance them out. He can be like, their hockey dad. But a cool dad. XD


	5. Bitty's second season...

The first time it happens...

Well, the first time it happens, he doesn't even notice. They’re playing Buffalo. He's in a scuffle with one of the centers, who looks kinda freaked out as Eric turns to face him again. He blinks and the fear is gone. Must've been seeing things.

_ Wishful thinking _ , a traitorous, mean little corner of his mind says. The one behind the thoughts of how long, how many fights will it take until they can't argue with him, until they're silent, until they take him  _ seriously _ .

They're both sent to the penalty box, and if the other player skates there a little faster than is warranted, well. Probably just wants to get it over with.

In the sin bin, Eric catches his furtive glance, and raises his eyebrow judgingly. Like he didn't have enough of being gawked at. The Sabres player looks away hurriedly.

 

The second time...it wasn’t even on the ice. He doesn’t think of it until much later really. He’d gotten a nice rotisserie chicken for dinner (yes, he could make his own quite easily, thank you, but sometimes you’d had a long day, too many suicides at practice, and just didn’t want to, ALRIGHT). He’d intended to keep the bones to make soup stock later...but somehow there were hardly any? An entire half of a chicken had just vanished, bones and all. 

They were playing the Aces tomorrow, so Bitty just put out of his mind to focus on the more important task of beating Kent Parson for all the points they could get. 

 

The third time...the third time, of course it would be the fucking Blackhawks. It was a home game in Seattle, a few days after the end of a roadie that hadn't gone as well as they liked. If they won this one, it would go a good way towards improving his mood, and the entire team's. At any rate, at least they were on home ice. It helped soothe things inside, just a little.

And then of course, that asshole had to mouth off after checking him. It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before, but his temper was running short. He hadn't seen Jack in months, lately it seemed he'd been hearing jeers at every road game, and honestly, he was ready to snap. His teammates were great, they were quite proactive with opposing players trying to get under his skin.

But THIS time. He tossed the chirp he'd usually answer with to the wind, he shook off his gloves and followed through into a beautiful left hook. A little judicious application of leverage,and shortly they were both on the ground, Eric with the upper hand.

"What do you think of this fucking queer now, huh?!" he bit out viciously.

Wilson caught sight of his face and went nearly as white as the ice, struggling now to get away rather than fend off hits, finally managing to buck Eric off and scramble away. The zebras chivvied them away from each other. He went to the sin bin without complaint, but they guided Eric towards the tunnel. Okay fine, there wasn't much time left in the period anyway.

"Bittle. The  _ hell  _ was that?"

"Same old, same old, coach. Bigoted assholes mouthing off and getting in my face, and there's only so much of that a fag can take," he said bitterly. His teeth ached. Probably he was clenching them too hard again.

The Schooners captain bustled in seconds later. "Bittle, the fuck is going on? Not that I really blame you for punching his face in, god knows most of us have wanted to do that at one time or another, but he was scarpering away like his ass was on fire...holy shit."

"What?"

"Um. Might wanna look in a mirror."

"Huh? My face kinda hurts but I don't feel any loose teeth..." he trailed off. "Oh," he said, small and quiet as he saw his reflection.

His eyes. They were yellow again, glowing faintly. A smattering of dark gold-green scales arced along his cheekbones. He grimaced and oh, yeah, the teeth were distinctly more pointed.

"What the fuck," he whispered softly. "Ya'll said it was just playoffs. It took nearly all summer for my teeth to get back to normal! This.  _ This isn't supposed to happen _ ," he said numbly.

"I'll tell 'em you won't be back for the third period. Go, call your boy. Looks like you need it." Cricket said.

Jack had had a game today too, and with the time difference, was probably already asleep. Much as he wanted comforting words from his boyfriend, another Zimmerman would be more helpful right now.

He took his phone out and stared at the contact info. Before he could do anything else, the screen lit up with "Good Robert." Jack's dad thought he was very funny.

"Eric. I was watching your game, saw you get sent off."

"I..." his voice faltered. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“What’s wrong?” Bob asked, sounding even more concerned.

“Ah. Um. The…the playoffs stuff. It’s temporary. Everyone’s said that. I was back to normal by August.”

What went unsaid was that for most of the other players, the beastly features had remained only through June. And that was for the teams that had gotten to the Finals.

“It’s come back then?” Bob asked.

“Not everything…just the eyes. And the teeth. A few scales. No armor,” Eric finally replied.

“Well. That’s. Unusual, yes.”

“I’m sick of being unusual.”

“Truthfully, I have seen this in regular season. But that was with more experienced players, commonly after a Cup or championship win.”

“But I’m the only rookie you know of that this happened to.”

“…yes.”

 


	6. Oh look, le sexe!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief sexy coda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been revised on account of this chapter. Not TOO explicit, but eh.

Their kiss was sharp and biting.

"God, how can you even look at me," Bitty said, voice wavering, hiding his head in the crook of Jack’s neck. 

"Bits, Bitty, I love you, always," Jack replied, laying a gentle kiss along Bitty’s horns. "I'm so, so sorry I didn't do more for you, I should've seen how you were hurting." He rubbed gently at the edges of armor. 

"No, no, it's okay, it was only your second year, you were so busy!"

"Yes, but  _ we're  _ a team too." 

"Oh," Bitty breathed.

Jack stretched out on his bed like an offering, beautifully nude, looking up at him shyly.

"You have me, always," he gasped out between kisses. He whined when Bitty's clever, slick fingers dipped in and started working him open.

"Look at you, Jack. All mine now. You'll always come back to me, won't you?"

"Yes, yes," and whimpered when Bitty bit his inner thigh and gently nibbled a hickey along the pale expanse.

Bitty pulled back briefly to examine the mark he made. Deep teeth marks surrounded a purpling center. "Just something to remember me by, honey," he murmured, and set about making a matching mark on the other thigh, all the while making Jack squirm as he worked him open.

"Bitty, Bits, please, please, now, need you," Jack pleaded.

"My, so impatient," he said, nuzzling his cheek along the strong thigh thrown over his shoulder. Jack shivered at the scrape of scales on the tender skin.

They both moaned at the slow slide in. Jack hitched his leg higher, keeping Bitty in place, deep inside. "I'm all yours, Bits, give me everything, I, I need you, always," he babbled, lost in pleasure as they rocked together.

It was a while before their mutual hunger was sated. They wiped off quickly, unwilling to move from the bed to get cleaned up more thoroughly. They’d been apart much too long. They platered themselves together, skin to skin, sharing warmth. 

They woke up nestled, legs tangled together, Jack’s fur soft against his cheek. 

Jack looked at him coyly over his shoulder, and hitched a knee up in invitation.

And really, how could he refuse? 

 


	7. Molt

They’d done it. They’d  _ done _ it. Finally,  _ finally _ they’d won, they had the Stanley Cup in their hands and it was everything he’d dreamed of and also somehow so much  _ more _ . 

All the blood, sweat, and tears that went into each post-season, every painful Change was worth it. Oh, the armor lightened up some after that first ridiculous and terrible year, but the fangs and spikes always came back. 

Cricket grins at him with a mouth full of fangs when he hands off the Cup. 

Bitty lifts it over his head and  _ roars _ , letting free his anger, frustration, and now goddamn  _ joy. _

 

The party starts on the ice and continues to the locker room, and will probably go on for a couple more days afterwards. Or like a week, this being the Schooners’ first championship! 

It’s practically raining champagne as the Cup makes the rounds around the room and everyone takes a drink, in between singing. 

On Bitty’s turn it’s almost more like a shower, Morin and Sorensen getting over-enthusiastic with the Cup and the champagne. 

The music, the noise, and  _ energy _ is incredible and almost tangible…

...okay now he’s gotta take off his undershirt because it is soaked and he suddenly realizes he is smelly and wet and  _ really uncomfortable _ !

The victory singing quieted as he shook his arms out. He felt a lot lighter, somehow. 

“What? Why’re y’all looking at me like that?” he asked warily. “I thought you were used to me by now?”

Something flickered in his peripheral vision. 

“Oh.  _ Fuck _ ,” he swore emphatically at the metallic green and teal and golden feathers now settled along his shoulders and arms where the green-gold armor had been. He sneezed and felt something rip farther (it may or may not have been his skin, but it didn’t hurt, strangely). 

More green trembled and shone at the edge of his vision. Bitty carefully turned his head to look at the restlessly quivering  _ wings  _ that had unfurled from under the plate armor. 

The yelling that followed was unholy, yet joyful. 

 

The first time Jack saw him again, he looked a lot like when Bitty had slew-footed him in Game 4 and proceeded to score the game-winning goal on a breakaway. He stared at Bitty in amazement. 

“Bits, you’re  _ beautiful _ , you look amazing, wha...how?” 

He shrugged. “Your dad thinks it’s probably because I started out figure skating. Different kind of ice magic put a twist on things.” 

Jack took his hand and kissed the spikes along his knuckles. “Look at you. I always knew you’d do great things.” 

Bitty smiled at him, showing all his sharp teeth. “How about the great thing I do next is  _ you _ ?” he purred. 

Jack choked on air. “Fuck. Let’s. That. Yes.  _ Please _ .”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, I'm tapped out. That's all I got for this 'verse. Maybe now I can get something out of the *other* hockey monster plot bunny that's hanging around.


End file.
